This one, a very tasty Manhattan variation, came from The Old Waldorf-Astoria Bar Book. For best results, use a high-quality, spicy sweet vermouth like Carpano’s Punt E Mes or Antica Formula, and Regans’ Orange Bitters No. 6.

The Marconi Wireless Cocktail

2 ounces applejack (or straight apple brandy, preferably).
1 ounce sweet vermouth.
2 dashes orange bitters.

Stir with ice for no less than 30 seconds.
Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with a cherry.

Yum.

Earlier today, in our discussion of Irish drinks for St. Patrick’s Day and especially the Tipperary Cocktail, I mentioned that other than “Paddy & Red” (Paddy Irish Whiskey mixed with fizzy red lemonade into a highball of sorts), there really isn’t any one historically quintessentially Irish cocktail.

“What about Irish coffee?” you ask. A lovely drink it is, but I’d always thought of it as kicked-up coffee rather than an actual cocktail. That said, I do love Irish Coffee.

It didn’t exactly spring up from local pub culture; it was invented by head chef Joseph Sheridan at Foynes Airport in Co. Clare (precursor to the modern Shannon Airport). As the story goes, “passengers from America would come into the Foynes airport via seaplanes (flying boats), chilled due to weather conditions. Typically they would order hot cups of coffee or tea when the arrived to their terminals. Brendan O’Regan, the manager of the Foynes catering service, believed the passengers would like something stronger than just coffee or tea and so Joseph Sheridan created the Irish Coffee.” This would have been sometime in the 1940s, and Sheridan moved to Shannon when Foynes was closed in 1945, taking his recipe with him.

Irish Coffee made it to the United States in the 1950s when a travel writer for the San Francisco Chronicle brought the recipe from Shannon to Buena Vista Café in San Francisco, who subsequently made 30 million of them, and up to 2,000 of them every day. Some will claim that the Buena Vista invented the Irish Coffee; others will claim that Tom Bergin’s Pub in Los Angeles did the same. Correct them kindly but firmly.

I’m not sure if many people in Ireland other than tourists ever order this in a pub, but that aside it’s really good when made well, and is perfect for taking the chill of a wintry day. It’s easy to make, although having hand-whipped cream on hand isn’t generally a daily occurrence in my house (and don’t you dare use that stuff from the can).

Joseph Sheridan’s Original Irish Coffee

Heat a stemmed whiskey goblet.
Pour in one shot of Irish whiskey.
Add three sugar cubes.
Fill with strong black coffee to within one inch of the top. Stir gently.
Top off to the brim with heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks.
Drink the whiskey-laced coffee through the cream; do not stir.

The way I make it is this: The whiskey must be Jameson’s or Power’s. The sugar should be brown, and it should be cut down to one cube, maybe two; I generally use a rounded teaspoon of brown or turbinado (raw) sugar.

For a New Orleans version, the Irish Channel Coffee, use good, strong New Orleans dark roast coffee and chicory, preferably Community or Union; use French Market or CDM if that’s what’s around.

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit! (Happy St. Patrick’s Day, and all that.) Ná cuir ceist orm … níl a fhois agam! (I do know, actually; I just like saying that.) Oh, and NO feckin’ green beer today, please. Black.

Okay, so it’s St. Patrick’s Day … there may be drinking involved. (No! I don’t believe it!)

If I were to offer a Cocktail of the Day today, it might be simply this:

Guinness Draught

One pint Guinness, poured properly. Sip through the head. Savor. Enjoy. Repeat.

There’s a caveat, though — make sure that the places you order Guinness from the tap actually do it well. A couple of weeks ago we went with some friends to The Knitting Factory in Hollywood to see The Sacred Cowboys, a country/Southern rock band whose lead singer is W. Earl Brown, whom you may know better as Dan Dority, Al Swearingen’s evil henchman on “Deadwood”. They were great, but I swear … the Guinness I was served there was without a doubt the most god-awful pint it has ever been my displeasure to have pass my lips. It tasted old, stale, heavily metallic and … well, Jaysis knows what other shite was in that line. It may have been the single most disagreeable pint of Guinness served to anyone since Arthur Guinness started his brewery in Dublin in 1759. Needless to say, do not ever order a Guinness at The Knitting Factory. (Andy said even the whiskey tasted “off”, so you’re probably better off with bottled beer.)

If there isn’t a decent pub in your neighborhood, apparently you can just order a pre-built pub and they’ll deliver it to you (which I find fascinating and bizarre).

Speaking of whiskey … it should be Irish this weekend, of course. We have a pretty decent collection at home, consisting of, if I recall correctly: John Powers Gold Label, John Powers 12 Year Old, Jameson, Jameson 12 Year Old, Tullamore Dew, Kilbeggan, Locke’s 8 Year Old Single Malt, Redbreast 12 Year Old, Paddy, Bushmills, Bushmills 10 Year Old Single Malt, Bushmills 21 Year Old, Midleton Very Rare 2003.

There will be sipping.

Then there’s the cocktail question. Well, sad to say, Ireland isn’t much of a cocktail-drinking country. I love the pints and the pure drop, but when were were last there I did miss the ould cocktail. (The Octagon Bar at the Clarence in Dublin filled the bill, although at an eye-popping €15.50 per drink for starters.)

There isn’t really a “typically Irish” cocktail, although you’ll see lots of things with Irish names, many green for the sake of being green, and that greenness coming from awful doses of green crème de menthe. (“What about Irish Coffee?” you ask. Follow the link for a bit on that.)

There’s one cocktail I’m quite fond of that’s becoming associated with this day, although I doubt that a single person in Ireland will drink one today (as opposed to the 150 pints of Guinness that are being pulled per second for each of the 24 hours of St. Paddy’s Day). It’s Irish whiskey-based and quite lovely, but calls for a bit of a tolerance for the intensely herbal liqueur Chartreuse (a tolerance very much worth acquiring). I believe the original recipe came from Hugo Ensslin in 1919, but this is the version appearing in the Savoy Cocktail Book:

The Tipperary Cocktail
(original version)

3/4 ounce Irish whiskey.
3/4 ounce green Chartreuse.
3/4 ounce sweet vermouth.

Stir with ice for no less than 30 seconds and strain into a cocktail glass.

In yesterday’s edition of The Cocktailian, Gary Regan’s fortnightly column in the San Francisco Chronicle, The Professor, our cocktailian bartender, offers a different version; same ingredients, different proportions — “More whiskey, less vermouth, less Chartreuse.” This is the way to go for me.

The Tipperary Cocktail
(The Professor’s modern variation)

2 ounces Irish whiskey.
1 ounce sweet vermouth.
1/4 ounce green Chartreuse.

Pour the Chartreuse into a chilled cocktail glass, and by tilting the glass and rotating it at the same time, coat the entire interior of the glass. Discard the excess Chartreuse. Fill a mixing glass two-thirds full of ice and add the whiskey and the vermouth. Stir for approximately 30 seconds and strain into the prepared cocktail glass.

Plus there’s the Dubliner, and its sibling, my own St. Dominic’s Preview. I think you’ll have plenty to drink to celebrate the day. If you do follow all of the above suggestions … well, try to space them out a bit.

P.S. — Here’s a version of the Tipperary from Larousse des Cocktails by Fernando Castellon in which he uses rye instead of Irish. It’s a good variation, but you’re not allowed to make it on St. Patrick’s Day. Use a nice, big, spicy rye and the best sweet vermouth you’ve got (Carpano Punt E Mes or Antica Formula).

Tipperary Cocktail No. 2

2 ounces rye whiskey.
1 ounce sweet vermouth.
1/2 ounce green Chartreuse.

Stir with ice; strain into a cocktail glass.

 

Version française, Larousse des Cocktails

4 cl de rye whiskey
2 cl de vermouth rosso
1 cl de liqueur Chartreuse verte
5 ou 6 glaçons

Mettez les glaçons et les ingrédients dans le verre à mélange.
Remuez à l’aide d’une cuillère à mélange pendant 8 à 10 secondes.
Filtrez au-dessus du verre martini à l’aide d’une passoire à glaçons.
Servez aussitôt.

The Sazerac gets most of the attention as supposedly being the quintessential New Orleans cocktail, as well as being named the official cocktail of New Orleans by state legislators with nothing better to do, and marketing-interested locals. But some say that the truest and most essential New Orleans cocktail is this one.

New Orleans cocktails are the order of the day all this week, as we approach Mardi Gras day in six days! I was particularly inspired to demonstrate the proper way to make this drink, after the ridiculous version in that recent Variety article which used “Meyer lemon-infused gin” and no cream! Sheesh.

This drink was invented by Henry Ramos in the 1880s in his bar at Meyer’s Restaurant (now long-gone) in downtown New Orleans. As the story goes, when Huey P. Long was governor of Louisiana he brought with him to New York’s Roosevelt Hotel the bartender from the New Orleans Roosevelt to teach the bar staff there the proper techniques just so he could have New Orleans gin fizzes whenever he was in New York. Every man a king …

The magical secrets of this drink are the egg white (for body, texture and froth), orange flower water for its amazing perfume, and to shake the living crap out of it, with plenty of ice, for no less one minute and preferably two, about a dozen times longer than you’d shake any other drink. You really want to emulsify the egg white and get a good frothy head going. During its heyday it’s been said that Mr. Ramos had a dozen young barbacks behind the bar who did nothing but shake gin fizzes all day, and supposedly they were shaken for 12 minutes to achieve the proper consistency. (It would seem to me that there’d be no ice left after that long. I would have dropped dead after the first dozen; making one batch of two fizzes last night made me want to take a nap, and that was even before a single sip. Clearly I need more exercise.)

Also, make sure you use plain seltzer or carbonated water, not club soda, as the latter contains too much salt.

Ramos Gin Fizz

2 ounces gin. (Use an Old Tom gin if you can get it, otherwise Plymouth is nice.)
1 ounce cream.
1 egg white.
1/2 ounce simple syrup.
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice.
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice.
3-4 small dashes orange flower water.
Soda.

Shake all ingredients except the soda water WITHOUT ICE quite vigorously for at least one minute, preferably longer — the longer the better. Then add ice and shake for 1-2 minutes, as long as you can manage, until extremely cold and frothy. Strain into a tall thin glass, or a very large old fashioned glass, and top with soda water.

Serve these with a brunch and your guests will fall at your feet and declare their everlasting devotion.

David Wondrich, author of the James Beard award-winning book Imbibe!, spoke to the New Orleans Times-Picayune after the Sazerac was declared the city’s official cocktail and dispelled some myths about the drink, also opining that although a really good drink it’s not all that special — it’s a local version of an improved whiskey cocktail, when you get right down to it.

Dave said, “For me, the funny thing is that the Sazerac gets anointed as the sainted cocktail of New Orleans history, so to speak, where its paternity is completely lost in mist and there is all kinds of corporate stuff and shenanigans involved. Meanwhile, Henry C. Ramos invented the Ramos Fizz, was credited for it and famous for it during his lifetime, was a hell of a guy, a native New Orleanian, and he just gets the also-ran treatment. For me, that’s the irony of it.”

When asked by interviewer Todd Price if the Ramos wasn’t a drink that didn’t fit modern tastes, Dave replied, “Neither did the Sazerac until five years ago. Who could say? You have a properly made Ramos and it is a delightful drink.” He’s absolutely right about that.

One extra bit of controversy involving this wonderful drink is whether or not to add a drop or two of vanilla extract. Most bartenders don’t, some claim it’s sacrilege, but local bartender extraordinaire Chris McMillian (currently of Bar UnCommon) does. Try it and see what you think. Here’s Chris making a Ramos Gin Fizz:

New York bartender Don Lee has perfected a technique for making Ramos Fizzes in which he says you get a beautifully creamy consistency and a nice tall meringue on top, but without requiring a shake any longer than you’d shake a Pisco Sour. Unfortunately I had had about seven drinks the last time he showed me how, so my memory is hazy, but it involves a 10-ounce chimney glass, placing an inch or so of soda at the bottom of it before pouring the drink into it, double-straining it when pouring and then adding the soda in a slow trickle so that the meringue rises out of the top like a soufflé … or something like that. Next time I talk to him I’ll get it down pat and let y’all know.

“A Pour Man’s Game?” Ugh. There are some puns at which even the likes of me must groan … fortunately, I can’t claim credit for this one — it’s the title of a nice article in weekly Variety (link long dead) about the resurgence of cocktails. It’s been done before, as we know, but I never complain about seeing another one; the resurgence must surge further!

The article mentions some familiar names — Dr. Cocktail (of course), Tony Abou-Ganim, and has a fair number of quotes from our friend Daniel Reichert, former proprietor of Vintage Cocktails, a catering company that once provided mostly classic and historic cocktails along with some new ones for various events. (I must confess I wouldn’t mind having such a gig.)

This article, like so many others I’ve read these days, tends to falter once it gets to the recipes. Their Sazerac is close, but is very, very wimpy when it comes to the Peychaud’s Bitters … one dash? C’mon folks, it’s not expensive stuff, and this drink is a showcase for the flavor of Peychaud’s. Use at least three, if not four. That drink they call a “Ramos Gin Fizz” … um, ain’t. It’s got several ingredients in common, but Henry Ramos’ bartenders weren’t infusing their Plymouth gin with Meyer lemon peel in 1888 … and the drink needs cream and lime juice in it, too. What is this, some kind of California “lite” version? Sheesh. It might be a fizz, but it ain’t a Ramos.

Fortunately, there’s a tasty-looking new creation by Daniel himself, and being fans of its namesake we love the name:

The Desperate Housewife
(created by Daniel Reichert)

1-1/2 ounces light rum.
3/4 ounce fresh lime juice.
3/4 ounce Cointreau.
1/2 ounce fresh pomegranate juice or POM Wonderful.
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur.

Shake with plenty of ice, strain into a large cocktail glass.
Garnish with a lime wedge.

The article said, “[The Desperate Housewife Cocktail is a] recent invention of Reichert, who doesn’t like to make Cosmopolitans. ‘I find them dull,’ he says. ‘This has a little more spine to it, but it’s still easy to drink.'” This is a nice companion to the Footloose in the sub-sub-genre of Cosmopolitan alternatives. (Are people still really ordering Cosmopolitans?)